第42章

FiveyearslaterIampacingthecourtyardoftheMetechskiPrisoninTiflis，and，asIdoso，tryingtoimagineforwhatparticularoffenceIhavebeenincarceratedinthatplaceofconfinement。 Picturesquelygrimwithout，theinstitutionis，inwardly，peopledwithasetofcheerful，butclumsy，humourists。Thatistosay，itwouldseemasthough，“byorderoftheauthorities，“theinmatesarepresentingastagespectacleinwhichtheyareplaying，willinglyandzealously，butwithacompletelackofexperience，imperfectlycomprehendedrolesasprisoners，warders，andgendarmes。 Forinstance，today，whenawarderandagendarmecametomycelltoescortmetoexercise，andIsaidtothem，“MayIbeexcusedexercisetoday？Iamnotverywell，anddonotfeellike，etcetera，etcetera，“thegendarme，atall，handsomemanwitharedbeard，helduptomeawarningfinger。 “NOONE，“hesaid，“hasgivenyoupermissiontofeel，ornottofeel，likedoingthings。“ Towhichthewarder，amanasdarkasachimney-sweep，withlargeblue“whites“tohiseyes，addedstutteringly: “Tonooneherehaspermissionbeengiventofeel，ornottofeel，likedoingthings。Youhearthat？“ SotoexerciseIwent。 Inthisstone-pavedyardtheairisashotasinanoven，foroverheadthereloursonlyasmall，flatpatchofdull，drab- tintedsky，andonthreesidesoftheyardrisehighgreywalls，with，onthefourth，theentrance-gates，toppedbyasortoflook-outpost。 OvertheroofofthebuildingtherecomesfloatingthedullroaroftheturbulentriverKura，mingledwithshoutsfromthehuckstersoftheAvlabarBazaar(thetown’sAsiaticquarter)andasacrossmotifthrownintothesesounds，thesighingofthewindandthecooingofdoves。Infact，tobehereislikebeinginadrumwhichamyriaddrumsticksarebeating。 Throughthebarsofthedoublelineofwindowsonthesecondandthethirdstoriespeerthemurkyfacesandtowsledheadsofsomeoftheinmates。Oneofthelatterspitshisfurthestintotheyard——evidentlywiththeintentionofhittingmyself:butallhiseffortsprovevain。Anotheroneshoutswithamordantexpletive: “Hi，you！Whydoyoukeeptrampingupanddownlikeanoldhen？ Holdupyourhead！“ Meanwhiletheinmatescontinuetointoneinconcertastrangechantwhichisastangledasaskeinofwoolafterservingasaplaythingforakitten’sprolongedgameofsport。Sadlythechantmeanders，wavers，toahigh，wailingnote。Then，asitwere，itsoarsyethighertowardsthedull，murkysky，breakssuddenlyintoasnarl，and，growlinglikeawildbeastinterror，diesawaytogiveplacetoarefrainwhichcoils，tricklesforthfrombetweenthebarsofthewindowsuntilithaspermeatedthefree，torridair。 AsIlistentothatrefrain，longfamiliartome，itseemstovoicesomethingintelligible，andagitatesmysoulalmosttoasenseofagony…… Presently，whilepacingupanddownintheshadowofthebuilding，Ihappentoglancetowardsthelineofwindows。Gluedtotheframeworkofoneoftheironwindow-squares，Icandiscernablue-eyedface。Overgrownwithanuntidysablebearditis，aswellasstampedwithalookofperpetuallygrievedsurprise。 “ThatmustbeKonev，“Isaytomyselfaloud。 Konevitis——Konevofthewell-rememberedeyes。Evenatthismomenttheyareregardingmewithpuckeredattention。 Ithrowaroundmeahastyglance。Myownwarderisdozingonashadybenchneartheentrance。Twomorewardersareengagedinthrowingdice。Afourthissuperintendingthepumpingofwaterbytwoconvicts，andsuperciliouslymarkingtimefortheirleverwiththeformula，“Mashkam，dashkam！Dashkam，mashkam！“ Imovetowardsthewall。 “Isthatyou，Konev？“ismyinquiry。 “Itis，“hemuttersashethrustshisheadalittlefurtherthroughthegrating。“Yes，KonevIam，butwhoyouareIhavenotanotion。“ “Whatareyouherefor？“ “Foramatterofbasecoin，though，tobetruthful，Iamhereaccidentally，withoutgenuinecause。“ Thewarderrouseshimself，and，withhiskeysjinglinglikeasetoffetters，uttersdrowsilythecommand: “Donotstandstill。Also，movefurtherfromthewall。Toapproachitisforbidden。“ “Butitissohotinthemiddleoftheyard，sir！“ “Everywhereitishot，“retortsthemanreprovingly，andhisheadsubsidesagain。Fromabovecomesthewhisperedquery: “WhoAREyou？“ “Well，doyourememberTatiana，thewomanfromRiazan？“ “DOIrememberher？“Konev’svoicehasinitatouchofsubduedresentment。“DOIrememberher？Why，Iwastriedincourttogetherwithher！“ “TogetherwithHER？Wasshetoosentencedforthepassingofbasecoin？“ “Yes。Whyshouldshenothavebeen？Shewasmerelythevictimofanaccident，evenasIwas。“ AsIresumemywalkinthestiflingshadeIdetectthat，fromthewindowsofthebasementthereisissuingasmellof，inequalparts，rottenleather，mouldygrain，anddampness。TomymindthererecurTatiana’swords:“Amidagreatsorrowevenasmalljoybecomesagreatfelicity，“and，“Ishouldliketobuildavillageonsomelandofmyown，andcreateformyselfanewandbetterlife。“ AndtomyrecollectionthererecuralsoTatiana’sfaceandyearning，hungrybreast。AsIstandthinkingofthesethings，therecomedroppingontomyheadfromabovethelow-spoken，ashen-greywords: “Thechiefconspiratorinthematterwasherlover，thesonofapriest。Heitwaswhoengineeredtheplot。Hehasbeensentencedtotenyearspenalservitude。“ “Andshe？“ “TatianaVasilievna？Tothesame，andIalso。IleaveforSiberiathedayaftertomorrow。ThetrialwasheldatKutair。InRussiaIshouldhavegotoffwithalightersentencethanhere，forthefolkinthesepartsare，oneandall，evil，barbaricscoundrels。“ “AndTatiana，hassheanychildren？“ “Howcouldshehavewhilelivingsucharoughlifeasthis？Ofcoursenot！Besides，thepriest’ssonisaconsumptive。“ “IndeedsorryforheramI！“ “SoIexpect。“AndinKonev’stonetherewouldseemtobeatouchofmeaning。“Thewomanwasafool——ofthattherecanbenodoubt；butalsoshewascomely，aswellasapersonoutofthecommoninherpityforfolk。“ “Wasitthenthatyoufoundheragain？“ “When？“ “OnthatFeastoftheAssumption？“ “Ohno。ItwasonlyduringthefollowingwinterthatIcameupwithher。AtthetimeshewasservingasgovernesstothechildrenofanoldofficerinBatumwhosewifehadlefthim。“ Somethingsnapsbehindme——somethingsoundinglikethehammerofarevolver。However，itisonlythewarderclosingthelidofhishugewatchbeforerestoringthewatchtohispocket，givinghimselfastretch，andyawningtotheutmostextentofhisjaws。 “Yousee，shehadmoney，and，butforherrestlessness，mighthavelivedacomfortablelifeenough。Asitwas，herrestlessness——“ “Timeforexerciseisup！“shoutsthewarder。 “Whoareyou？“addsKonevhastily。“SomehowIseemtorememberyourface；but1cannotplaceit。“ YetsostungamIwithwhatIhaveheardthatImoveawayinsilence:savethatjustasIreachthetopofthestepsIturntocry: “Goodbye，mate，andgivehermygreeting。“ “Whatareyoubawlingfor？“blustersthewarder…… Thecorridorisdim，andfilledwithanoppressiveodour。Thewarderswingshiskeyswithadry，thinclash，andI，todullthepaininmyheart，strivetoimitatehim。Buttheattemptprovesfutile；andasthewarderopensthedoorofmycellhesaysseverely: “Inwithyou，ten-yearsman！“ Entering，Imovetowardsthewindow。BetweensomegreyspikesonawallIcanjustdiscerntheboisterouscurrentoftheKura，withsakli[warehouses]andhousesgluedtotheoppositebank，andthefiguresofsomeworkmenontheroofofatanningshed。 Below，withhiscappushedtothebackofhishead，asentryispacingbackwardsandforwards。 WearilymymindrecallsthemanyscoresofRussianfolkwhomithasseenperishtonopurpose。Andasitdoessoitfeelscrushed，asinavice，beneaththeburdenofgreatandinexorablesorrowwithwhichalllifeisdowered。 INAMOUNTAINDEFILE InamountaindefilenearalittletributaryoftheSunzha，therewasbeingbuiltaworkman’sbarraque——alow，longedificewhichremindedoneofalargecoffinlid。 Thebuildingwasapproachingcompletion，and，meanwhile，ascoreofcarpenterswereemployedinfashioningthinplanksintodoorsofequalthinness，knockingtogetherbenchesandtables，andfittingwindow-framesintothesmallwindow-squares。 Also，toassistthesecarpentersinthetaskofprotectingthebarraquefromtribesmen’snocturnalraids，theshrill-voicedyoungstudentofcivilengineeringwhohadbeensetinchargeoftheworkhadsenttotheplace，aswatchman，anex-soldiernamedPaulIvanovitch，amanoftheCossacktype，andmyself。